


no ceiling (on the way that you got me feeling)

by pocketlouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Innocent Harry, M/M, Orgasm, Surfer!Louis, anyway thats all for now, i was running out of time, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, nice, omg I'm adding so many tags now, sorry if this seemed a little rushed, sort of, wheel chair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 08:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketlouis/pseuds/pocketlouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a national surf champion who can’t compete this summer due to a tragic accident and a broken leg. Meanwhile, Harry is just a boy who feels like he doesn’t belong and though he couldn’t swim to save his own life, he’d swim the ocean for Louis. </p><p>  Louis thinks Harry is annoying. In between all of Harry’s desperate attempts to make Louis smile and Louis’ desperate attempts to avoid Harry, Louis kind of, sort of, possibly, maybe misses the part where he falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no ceiling (on the way that you got me feeling)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pocketharry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketharry/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy! Feel free to come talk to me on my tumblr(harrymoon).

Harry wakes up to the smell of breakfast biscuits and tea. His eyes blink a few times and he hears the ocean rush silently outside of his window. The gulls are cooing as the sun rises and he knows it’s time to wake up. Though, waking up can be hard when the desire isn’t there. 

With a deep sigh, Harry pulls himself up and out of his bed. His feet hit the cold marble floor and chills spike through his body like electricity. Goosebumps rise on his skin when he reaches for the french doors leading out to his balcony and he sighs in relief when he sees that there are no people on the beach right now, only one person. 

With much eagerness, he runs to his closet and strips himself of his boxers and replaces them with some swimming trunks. They are still a little bit damp from the day before when he was exploring the tide pools near his home, so he jumps a little bit when the coolness catches him by surprise. He forgets a shirt, instead pulling on a black hoodie. He’s ready to go. 

“Harry love, slow down! Have some breakfast!” his mother calls when she hears his feet thump against the floor. 

“Don’t have time.” he mumbles quickly before running out the back door of their house. He ignores the “Please be careful!” that his mother yells, and leaves her behind without another look. 

The sun is just reaching the tip of the sky, ready to surpass the waves. Hues of purple and pink and blue light the sky while the sun makes her journey to day. His feet are moving as quickly as they can, leg muscles straining from the exertion brought out by running against the strength of the grainy sand. He runs until it’s time to stop. A smile forms on his face as he watches the figure in the waves. The figure glides gracefully, disappearing into a warp hole of salt water. The waves stand tall, not backing down, determined to drag the figure underneath the surface of the water. But the diligence that the figure possesses proves to be nothing but pure challenge to the ocean. 

But alas, the figure is swallowed by the waves. Harry sees nothing but endless blue as he looks out in search of the figure. He smiles when he sees a head pop up from the water, so he waves happily and the figure waves back. 

When the figure begins to swim to the shore with the tide on top of it’s surfboard, Harry walks to the edge of the water and stops there. He never goes in, just stays there and waits. 

The figure approaches slowly, a smile coming across his face as he uses his delicate fingers to wipe excess salt water from his eyes. He pushes his hair away from his beautiful face when his feet hit the dry sand. 

“Hi there, Louis.” Harry breathes. Louis’ smile is like the sun and he looks like a god; tanned skin and waves crashing behind him. He’s unreal. 

“Hi.” Louis says and glances at Harry. “Why’re you up so early?” 

“Was just up, I guess.” he says cooly, trying to hide the fact that he really just wanted to see Louis do what he does best. After all, Louis was the best surfer in Orange County, or maybe even the best surfer in the world—in Harry’s eyes of course.

Louis hums in approval. He reaches his free arm behind his neck to begin unzipping his black wetsuit. 

Harry tries to be discreet when he watches Louis’ bum in that godforsaken-to-him wetsuit. They tread up the sand together back towards their houses. Small talk here and there is exchanged, but Harry can’t get over how completely wonderful he thinks Louis is. He admires Louis, a little to much probably, surely. But, being next door neighbors with a national surf champion doesn’t leave much for you to do. 

He and Louis part ways, eventually. And it’s a possibility that Harry is disappointed for such a short moment of interaction with his favorite person in the world. But, then again, to him, every moment feels like forever. 

When Harry gets back into his house, he finds himself falling limp onto the couch. He flicks on the television and searches the channels. He’s looking for the surfing channel in particular. 

The channel discusses next week. Harry sits up and pays attention, for it will be the National Surfing Competition, and of course, Louis will be participating. Harry practically squeals when he sees Louis’ name and photo pop up on the featured list of competitors. He smiles in pride, oddly, because he knows that Louis can do anything. Louis will take first place. He will because he always has. 

Harry sinks into the plush cushions of the couch and lets another little squeal escape his lips. 

“Oh calm down, fan boy.” Gemma says and she ruffles Harry’s hair, patronizing, but endearing nonetheless. 

Harry sticks his tongue out at his older sister. 

—

It’s an absolute tragedy.   Absolute. 

Tragedy. 

Harry is sitting out on the beach, like usual, just watching Louis do his routinely morning practice. The sun is barely peaking out over the horizon and Louis is only a mere silhouette in the dusk. His arms glide against the ocean, keeping him balanced. The waves are crashing wildly, the tide running higher and higher, wind reaching excessive speeds. It’s an overcast summer day. 

Harry’s hair is blowing all sorts of mad in the wind, waves peaking out all over in the ocean air. They cover his eyes, blinding him from the sight of his favorite boy doing his favorite thing. 

It’s when he finally regains his vision, pushing his hair back and out of the way, that he notices Louis isn’t there anymore. No dark silhouette pointing to the other boy. Harry sits up, eyes squinting as he tries to make something out. But when Louis finally surfaces, Harry sees that his head is popping in and out of the water. The waves are pulling him violently. Harry gets up and runs as fast as he can. His toes meet the edge of the shore, ankles becoming drenched in the cold water. Chills run down his entire body and he sees Louis emerge from the water again. 

“H-Help!” he goes back under. And then back up again. “Someon-” and under again. 

Harry’s eyes are brimming with water. He doesn’t know what to do. He stumbles around for a few moments. “Louis! Hold on!” he hollers. He feels helpless as he stands on the edge of the shore. He listens as Louis continues to yell for help, and though he can’t swim, like, at all, he finds himself running towards the crashing waves. They swing and sway him as he tries to fight through the rough current. The water is at his hips and he can see Louis getting farther away. His flannel shirt is getting more and more soaked as he treads through the water, finding it harder to keep control of his movements. 

After much fight, Harry finally reaches Louis. He’s struggling to keep himself above the water, but he grips Louis’ ankle leash and removes it. He chokes on water as he reaches for Louis’ hand in desperation. “Lou! Grab my hand-” he shouts, still choking on water. 

Luckily enough, Louis grabs Harry’s hand just in time. He notices that Harry is struggling, and even though there is a pain in his lower area, he tries to pull Harry along with him to get back to the shore. The tide is pulling at his body and he cries out in pain because his leg, it’s his leg. There is an excruciating pain existing and the salt water of the ocean is mixing with his own tears now. But with each long blink of his eyes, he finds himself getting closer to the shore. 

His arms work desperately, still hauling Harry behind him. But eventually, they end up back in the warmth of the sand. He lays flat on his back and the tide comes up to touch his body, cold waves making him shiver. “Fuck.” Louis mutters, because his leg hurts. He doesn’t know why. It just hurts. Possibly the absolute worst thing he’s ever felt. 

The boy, Harry, is laying somewhere below him. Louis catches a glimpse of him. He doesn’t look conscious at all, lips blue, skin pale. He shuts his eyes once more because his leg hurts so bad and he doesn’t want to be alive. He wants to wake up and have this be a bad dream. 

—

“What do you mean 6 months?! I have a competition next week! I can’t be in this thing! I have to compete!” 

The older man looks at Louis in remorse, sharing a glance with the older woman who has her hand on Louis’ shoulder. “I am sorry, Mr. Tomlinson. You broke your femur when you went crashing down into the water. The femur is one of the most crucial bones in your body, as it is the biggest. It supports a higher majority of your weight. Your leg needs time to heal.” he says. 

Louis is on the verge of tears as he looks down at the white cast on his leg. It starts at his upper thigh and extends down past his knee, barely leaving room for him to wiggle his toes. He looks at his mother, Jay, as if there is something she can do about it.

Surfing is his passion. Surfing is all he has when he feels like nothing. It’s his escape from life and everything in between. He’s been surfing ever since he was eight, ever since his father left. Safe to say, surfing helped him cope with the pain and suffering. He would run away from home and escape to the sea. The shock of the crashing waves against his skin and the pull of their strength gave him the will to fight back—something he hadn’t always wanted to do. 

Apathy came along with everything that was wrong in his life, but when it involved surfing...all of the bad just seemed to vanish, like old sand with the new waves on the shoreline. 

“I’m so sorry love.” Jay is saying as she walks back into Louis’ room. She strokes his hair to soothe him. “I know how much this all meant to you.” She motions to all of the trophies on Louis’ shelves, the countless awards and photographs on his walls. 

Louis tries not to break down. He really does. But when his mother is looking at him with those sympathetic eyes, he just can’t hold it in. So he cries for a long time. The longest and hardest he’s cried since his father left.   —

Basically, this summer is going to suck, Louis has decided. 

He spends his first few days of hell trapped inside of his dark room, in front of his television re-watching Mean Girls. He finds joy when Regina can only fit in sweatpants. He’s really fucking miserable. 

But he finds the true meaning of misery when he attempts to go to the restroom by himself. Safe to say, he had to scream and holler until his mother came and found him. 

He’s sitting in the den when the doorbell rings. Jay is out at the store, so he sits and dismisses it silently, continuing to watch The Tyra Banks Show. But the ringer is persistent. The person rings it again, and Louis rolls his eyes. “Come in!” he shouts, because really, it’s The OC, and who would want him dead? 

Louis listens as footsteps slowly approach him from behind the couch. He makes his best attempts to turn around, but he can’t. 

“Hi, Louis.” a voice says from behind him. 

“Hello, stranger?” he says, trying to act like he isn’t afraid. But he really is. The stranger finally comes to where Louis can see him, and of all people, it’s Harry. “What are you doing here?” Louis asks, watching as Harry takes a seat on the floor in front of him. This kid is totally weird. 

“Oh, I just thought I would visit you. See how you’re doing, you know?” Harry offers. 

Louis cocks an eyebrow at Harry. “How do you think I’m doing?” 

Harry flinches at Louis’ annoyed tone. “I’m guessing not so good?” he tries. 

Louis decides to avoid the possible jab of sarcasm that could come with his next set of words, so he opts on just nodding his head, humming in agreement. 

Harry gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m really sorry about what happened.” 

“It’s okay.” Louis shrugs. Because nothing could have really stopped what happened. No use crying over spilled milk. Or something like that.

Harry shifts awkwardly on his knees. There is a silence between the two of them until the doorbell rings again. They both jump, and Harry looks at Louis expectantly, a question in his eyes. 

Louis answers that question by yelling yet another, “Come in!” 

The door clicks open in the distance and before Louis can really establish the almost sad look on Harry’s face, Zayn is in front of him.  
The darker boy looks shocked when he sees his best friend. “My baby!” Zayn screeches and he lunges forward, almost knocking Louis over. “Are you okay?! I can’t believe this! Does it hurt?!” 

Louis shuts his eyes for a few seconds. “Zayn, please, slow down. Please.” he says because he can feel a headache coming on and Zayn is so over-exuberant today. This Zayn is completely different from his usually chill self.

Zayn takes a step back, sitting on the couch next to Louis. He takes a few steady breaths before trying again. “How long?” he motions to Louis’ leg. “That’s what I meant.” 

Louis frowns. “Six months. And I get a wheel chair.”

Zayn stands up again. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” He paces the living room, passing Harry on the floor twice before he stops. “That’s like, the whole summer, Lou.” 

“Yes, I realize that.” he rolls his eyes, glancing over to Harry once, and then back to Zayn.

“What am I going to do without you? You know our team isn’t strong enough.” 

Harry watches the two bicker back and forth. From what he picks up, Zayn is a surfer as well. The competition is next week, and with Louis unable to compete...Zayn has reason to believe they’re team is going to lose. 

“Fucking brilliant!” is the last thing Zayn says before darting out of the Tomlinson house. Louis and Harry sit there in another awkward silence. There is nothing left to say, and Harry wasn’t really expecting to witness a full-blown fight like he just did. He looks at Louis, concerned. He doesn’t like seeing his favorite person looking so upset. 

“I should probably go.” Harry finally says. Though he doesn’t actually want to leave. Like, at all. But, he feels as if it is the only right thing to do in a situation like this. Give Louis some time to steam off. Or something like that.

Louis nods. “Yeah, guess so. Thanks for coming by anyway.” he says, and before he knows it, Harry is gone. 

It only takes ten minutes for one of them to crack. It’s Zayn this time. Louis’ cell phone rings in his pocket and he smirks when he sees Zayn’s caller i.d. photo illuminate the screen. Justin Timberlake’s “Sexy Back” is playing for Zayn’s custom ringtone(“It fits me, Lou. Don’t act like you don’t think I’m sexy.”). 

“Hello?” Louis says after pressing the answer button. 

“I’m sorry for going off on you like that.” Zayn’s voice echoes through the speaker.   Louis sighs, repositioning himself on the couch. He stares at his wheel chair in the corner, wondering how the hell he will find a way to move his ass from the couch to that godforsaken contraption. He forgets the hot-wheels and returns his attention to Zayn. “I know. It’s alright, man. I get it.” he says and he can hear Zayn sighing in the background before speaking again. 

“I guess all that matters is that you’re okay, Lou. I just—you know how much surfing means to me. To us.”

“I know. I’m torn up over it.” Louis admits. 

“But all that matters is that you’re okay.” 

He can hear the hint of a smile in Zayn’s voice, so he smiles too. “Thanks. Love you.” 

“Love you too, man.” Zayn says. “Also, who was that kid? The one in your house.” 

Louis sighs and rubs his eyes. “The kid from next door. Harry Styles.” 

“And what’s up with that?” Zayn’s voice comes through the line, sensual and seductive. 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He’s kind of a ‘fan’ of me, I guess. It’s rather annoying, really.” Louis pulls on a loose string on the cushion of the couch. “He doesn’t really have any friends, I guess. His mom talked to my mom, and yeah.”

“Hm.” Zayn hums. “Sounds kinky.” 

“Oh, fuck off. Twat.” Louis says. 

“But tell me, why do you care? He’s just some lame kid.” 

Louis shrugs, though Zayn can’t see him. “I guess he was the one who came after me when I went down.” 

“Your very own miracle man!” Zayn beams. 

“It only gets worse, because I guess that he doesn’t even know how to swim in the first place. So it was kind of like a suicide dive. And now here I am, miserable and in debt to the kid next door.” Louis laughs into the phone. 

He can hear faint muffling from Zayn’s line. He hears Zayn’s sisters in the back, complaining about something else that Zayn probably didn’t do in the first place. Zayn yells back and them and Louis tries to hide the fact that he is laughing, holding his finger over the receiver. 

“Listen, I’ve got to go. But I’ll text you, yeah?” 

Louis hums, “Yeah, that’s fine. Talk to you later.” he manages to get out before the line goes dead. 

Louis sets his phone down and thinks of Harry Styles; a boy with no friends, living in The OC(across from the beach, really) without the ability to swim, and some sort of unusual thing about him. Louis half-smiles at that. 

—

The next time Louis sees Harry Styles is, actually...the next day. Ironically. 

It’s eight in the morning when the doorbell rings. Louis grumbles audibly as he climbs out of bed and into his wheel chair. He slept in the guest bedroom last night, due to the fact that his room is so conveniently located upstairs. He grumbles again. 

When Louis reaches the front door, he opens it and sees Harry standing there with a stack of boxes in his arms. Louis gives him a tiredly, annoyed look. “What the fuck?” is all he can say before Harry is marching into his house. 

Harry sets the boxes down and takes hold of Louis’ wheelchair handles from behind. “Good morning, Lou.” Harry says as he kicks the front door shut and pushes Louis into the living room. “I hope you slept well! I brought some games over and stuff.”

Louis lets out a loud yawn. “What? Why?” he demands. 

Harry giggles as he pushes Louis to a stop in the middle of the living room. He then runs back over to retrieve his boxes from where he left them. “Because it must get boring. Just sitting around all day.” Harry unpacks the boxes and pulls out a massive load of boardgames and a freaking gamecube, because he is Harry Styles. And Harry Styles is one of those weird indie kids, Louis assumes. 

“Um. You do know it’s 2013, right?” Louis asks as he nudges one of the board games with his free foot. 

Harry looks at Louis, confused. “Yes?” he says and it’s more of a defensive tone. “It is 2013, and I love scrabble!” 

Louis rubs at his eyes for a moment. This kid is going to be the death of him. “We could play the gamecube, I guess. Or I have my PS3.” Louis motions over to the television area. 

Harry’s eyes scan over the massive television and load of game consoles, all sitting in their shining glory. “So complicated.” Harry mumbles. 

Louis practically gapes at that because his living room is any teenage boy’s dream. But then he remembers. Any teenage boy, except for Harry, of course, because Harry likes fucking scrabble and Harry probably reads for fun. “Fine, fine. Let’s just watch a movie or something.” Louis tries. 

Harry nods quickly and hops up from the floor. “Wow, you’ve got so many, Lou.” His fingers trail over the shiny BlueRay cases as if he were a new being on the earth, sent from some far away land. Sometimes Louis kind of thinks that he is. All of the titles are in alphabetical order. Bless the nanny. 

Louis slowly nods his head at Harry, rolling over so that he’s next to the other boy. He looks down to see a piece of flesh exposed, the small of Harry’s back poking out. The pale skin causes him to lick his lips slightly. And no. He did not just do that. 

“See anything you like?” Louis asks, trying to clear his mind, trying to get Harry to stop reaching up like that. Harry should wear longer shirts, Louis decides. 

Harry smiles and grabs a movie from the shelf. He presents it to Louis. “This one.” 

Louis grabs the object from Harry and examines it. “The House At The End of The Street?” He raises a speculative brow, and Harry smiles. 

They end up watching the movie. Both boys on the couch, eyes glued to the screen. And if Harry were to tell you that Louis shrieked like a girl when the phone rang, Louis would deny it. He does not shriek. 

The ending credits are rolling and Louis is still staring at the screen in horror. “That was kind of fucked. Not going to lie.” he says, and somewhere between the beginning and the ending of the movie, his casted leg had ended up in Harry’s lap. And if Harry actually minded at all, he would have probably said something sooner. 

But it’s Louis who makes the first move. He swings his broken leg up from where it’s laying pathetically in Harry’s lap, using all of his strength. A little grunt escapes his lips. “Well, it’s about noon. I should probably get ready for my mother to be home.”

Harry comes out of his quiet daze and looks at his cell phone. He sees the time and nods. “Yeah, I should probably get going. I had a lovely time.” he says, and from what Louis can tell, it’s almost as if he’s shy about it. Tentative in some way. 

“Oh, can I sign your cast?” Harry adds. “I’ve always wanted to sign one.” 

Louis shakes the thoughts. He gives a toothless smile, lips pulling up at the corners when he looks at Harry. “Go for it.” 

Harry practically beams. He jumps excitedly before grabbing a Sharpie from a nearby drawer. He comes back over to where Louis is sitting and he pulls the cap of the pen off, holding in between his teeth. 

Louis takes a sharp inhale of breath. 

Harry smiles, marking two dots on the smiley face. “There.” He looks at the scrawly handwriting proudly before putting the cap back on the pen. He tosses it on the couch and turns on his heels. “I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah.” is the last thing Louis says before Harry is gone. 

—

The week of the surf competition comes, and Louis watches his friends and foes compete from his back porch. He watches Zayn as he glides through the water on his ridiculously pink surfboard and frowns. It makes him sad to see his team move on without him in the competition. Of course Zayn reassured him that competing without him would be impossible, but from the looks of it, Zayn was wrong. Or Zayn just lied to make him feel better. 

When the tournament ends, Louis sees that his team places second. He smiles and tries to put on his best face for them. But he still feels like a loser in the end. His team did so well without him, and he honestly feels like going into a hole and never coming out again. 

Zayn calls Louis and tells him that they’re going to be at a party tonight. He insists that Louis come, of course. But Louis declines, claiming he’s tired. It’s a lie. Besides, how much fun could a guy in a wheel chair even be? Not very much, Louis thinks. 

Instead, Louis finds himself wheeling himself out to his front yard. There are street fireworks going on down the block. Normally, he would run and join. But, in his current predicament, walking isn’t even an option. So he just puts his breaks on, planning on staying out until the fireworks end. 

—

The next few weeks pass slowly for Louis. 

Watching the craze and rave of his home town’s soon-to-be champions(without him), proves to be overwhelming. He scrolls through his Facebook feed, and honestly, why does he use this shit website? He sees Zayn’s posts with his new pals and fucking Niall, the guy who replaced him. Apparently. He’s not jealous. Not at all. Fuck Zayn. Fuck Niall. 

But he can’t deny the small sigh he lets out whenever someone asks him a question about his leg, or what he thinks about his team moving on in the league. He can’t deny the small sigh of distress when he sees Zayn’s posts on Instagram. Those photos of the countless night parties at the beach with the captions ‘aha best night ever love my best mates xx @NiallOfficial @LiamPayne’ annoy him. He tries not to let off that they phase him. Because they don’t, okay? 

But beside all of the commotion the tournament brought to The OC, Louis finds that of all people, Harry fucking Styles, has been there for him more than Zayn—his own best friend—has. 

Harry comes over every day. 

Even when Louis is being a proper dick, Harry comes and Harry stays. And maybe, possibly, there is some small, potential part inside of Louis that is secretly thankful for the other boy. 

Harry can be annoying. 

And sometimes Harry makes Louis think about things he never thought possible. Things he never considered to relate to himself...like, at all. And the thing is, Harry makes Louis feel weirdly new and uncertain. Harry with his stupid fucking brown curls, green eyes, too short shirts that ride up when he bends or stretches, his too tight pants, his inability to swim, his voice that sounds like caramel would if it could sound. Harry is stupid, and Harry is on Louis’ mind a lot. Therefore, Harry Styles is annoying. Annoyingly always there. 

They’re laying out on Louis’ hammock one afternoon when curiosity arrives. “Haz?” Louis calls out to Harry, because somewhere along the way, Louis made a stupid nickname for Harry. And wow, fuck Harry Styles. 

“Hm?” Harry hums. 

Louis looks at the way Harry has his eyes closed, kind of like he is dreaming. The way his arms are bent behind his head makes him look totally chill. And Louis can’t help but swallow harshly when he looks at the natural flex of Harry’s arms. He moves his head so that it’s resting on one of Harry’s arms, and then he shuts his eyes too. “Tell me something.” Louis whispers. 

Harry’s eyes stay shut. “Like what?” 

Louis hums silently as he curls into Harry’s side. His leg makes things difficult, so Harry pulls it over his own body. “Anything.” Louis says, rather breathless. 

“Sometimes I think that I’d like to run away, you know? Someplace far, ideally. Where no one could find me.” he says, a glimpse of the craving for freedom in his eye. It’s not that he hates where he’s at, it’s just...yeah, he hates it here. “I don’t really belong.”

“Well, when you do, take me with you.” Louis adds, opening his eyes now. And he probably doesn’t mean that, but Harry promises he will anyway. 

Louis shifts a little bit so he can stare at Harry. “Why don’t you feel like you belong?” 

Harry looks away from Louis’ eyes and takes in the sight of the ocean. The waves are moving slowly, kind of like his heart beat. Relaxed. “I don’t know. Everyone thinks I’m weird. No one here has anything in common with me. I just don’t get on well with people.” he admits honestly. 

Louis smiles sympathetically. “Well, you are kind of weird, Styles.” he teases. And soon enough they’re both laughing at that. 

There’s a moment of silence before Harry starts speaking again, and he releases a breath he didn’t know was waiting to be released. “You’re kind of the closest thing I’ve ever had to a real friend, you know?”

Louis knows it’s a genuine statement. “Yeah. Friends.” he finds himself saying as he links his hand into Harry’s bigger one. He doesn’t know why the word ‘friend’ seems to rub him like it does, but he tries to shrug it off. 

“Wanna do something fun?” Harry asks, and then there it is. That look in his eye. The one that Louis had got so used to seeing in the time they spent together. The look says nothing but trouble when Louis sees it. But he can’t bring himself to care.

“Why not?” He ends up saying, because when it comes to Harry, everything is a big question-less adventure. Harry’s life motto is something you would pull out of a John Green or Stephen Chbosky book. And Louis only sort of smiles when he thinks about how Harry had introduced him to both authors. Bastard. 

 

Louis hadn’t expected “fun” to be hot-wheeling down a hill in his wheelchair with Harry pushing him from behind. And he absolutely did not expect “fun” to be inevitably crashing into a couple of trashcans at the end of the concrete slope. But even though his leg is in pain, he’s all smiles and booming laughs when he sees Harry. Harry with his scrunched up face and freshly scraped knees. He thinks, in that moment, about how beautiful Harry is. And if the thought of how weird that might be enters his mind, he surely dismisses it quick enough. 

“Well that was fun, Lou.” Harry says as he pushes Louis back into the house. 

Louis laughs loudly, “Yeah, it was. Except, my leg really fucking hurts.” he admits while rubbing the hard surface of the cast. And before he knows anything else, he finds himself shrieking. He’s in Harry’s arms, bridal style. 

Harry. Fucking. Styles. 

“Gotta put you to bed.” Harry says, so smug that Louis could punch him in the throat. 

Louis says nothing in return, and he just watches as Harry tucks him in. Tucks. Him. In. “God, did my mother hire you?” 

Harry giggles. Giggles. “Just trying to be nice. Is that such a crime?” 

Louis shrugs from under the tightly tucked in covers. “Guess not.” 

“Exactly.” Harry says as he makes his way out of the room. He looks back once more, hand resting on the light switch. “I had fun. Sleep good.”

Louis smiles back at him. And when he shuts his eyes, Harry Styles is not the last thing on his mind before he sleeps. 

Maybe.

Definitely. 

Yeah, he definitely is. 

—

“Lou, I don’t think this is a good idea.” Harry says as he stares down into the water. “It’s deep looking.” 

Louis rolls forward in his wheelchair, also rolling his eyes incredulously. “God, Harry, you wuss. It’s five-fucking-feet, and you’re like a fucking skyscraper.” 

Harry brings his arms up to scratch at the floaties Louis made him wear. Goosebumps are spread out over his skin after he removes his hands. “I’ve heard of people drowning in their bathtubs.” he tries, ignoring Louis’ annoyance. 

“I won’t let you drown.” 

“But you’re in a wheelchair. You can’t get wet.” Harry tries again. 

“Oh my gosh, Harry! Do you see that?” Louis points into the water, trying to hold back a smile. He’s evil, he knows. 

Harry’s eyebrows pinch together as he glances into the pool. “Don’t see anything Lo-” he says and before he can finish, he’s flying into the pool. 

Louis cackles. He’s a horrible person, he really is. He laughs as he watches Harry come up to the surface with as much fervor as a scuba diver without air. Long arms are flapping in the water, floatation unequal because of the air in the floaties. Harry gasps and yells loudly when he finally regains his stance. Louis watches as Harry coughs and rubs the water away from his face, flipping his hair to the side. “Told you that you wouldn’t drown. The water barely goes past your hips.” 

“I hate you.” Harry says through his coughing fit. 

“I’m sure it’s the contrary.” Louis smart asses. “Now, quit fooling around and get into swimming position.” 

Harry pouts at Louis before managing to get into his own version of “swimming position.” His arms are out at his sides before he looks at Louis. “M’ready.” he says, almost spluttering on more water. He chooses to ignore the little girls and boys staring at him with amused looks. 

“He’s a beginner, kids! No need to worry.” Louis shouts over to them. They look away. 

“Alright, so what you need to do is move your arms like this.” he says, motioning his arms up and swerving them down. “Try it.” 

Harry gives him a speculative look before trying it. “Okay.” he says after testing it out a few times. “What’s next?” 

“Now, just use your legs to push off the wall and do the arm thing. But you’re going to want to kick too.” He moves his legs as best as he can to demonstrate. “Try it.” 

Harry takes a big intake of breath before positioning his legs on the wall. And then he pushes, waving his arms and kicking his legs like his life depends on it. 

“Come up for breath!” Louis yells in hopes that Harry will hear him. Luckily enough though, Harry does. Louis watches with a little bit of pride as Harry does his best to swim. He makes it all the way across the pool. It’s sloppy, but it’s swimming. “Now swim back.” he adds, and before he knows it, Harry is swimming around the pool. 

“M’doing it-” he dunks his head under, and back up again. “M’swimming!” 

“You sure are.” Louis says to himself, smiling at the sight of Harry’s long body moving languidly under the chlorine waves. The muscles on his back are shifting and Louis catches himself staring at those arms again. He gulps when he feels that his looking has gone on long enough. 

Harry Styles will be the absolute end of him. 

—

They end up back in Louis’ room as the day fades into the evening. Harry’s feeling nervous. So nervous. It’s been bugging him for forever, but more today. 

He couldn’t deny that something felt completely different off the bat of their little swimming lesson. Harry had noticed how Louis’ smile seemed to shine even brighter than usual, how his touch lingered longer than normal. When he woke up and got out of bed this morning, something inside of him felt different. 

And it’s all showing now. 

As they’re both laying on Louis’ bed, he just can’t tear his eyes away from Louis. He can’t help but want to touch every curve of Louis’ body, every contour of his face. He would give up forever just to run the tips of his finger tips over those pitch black eyelashes. And he would give up infinity just to press his lips against Louis’, if only just for a moment. 

Louis is laughing at some YouTube video, so he doesn’t notice how Harry is practically dying on the inside, thoughts going mad inside of his curly head. Harry takes a big gulp before he begins speaking. “L-Louis?” 

Louis’ eyes remain looking at the screen. Cats are on the display, flying around bedrooms, tearing down curtains, knocking babies over, everything. He laughs once more before he taps the pause button on the player. “Yeah?” he says as his eyes finally meet Harry’s.

Oh God, this is it, Harry thinks. This is the moment. Isn’t it? “I...” he finds himself saying, unable to finish the sentence because Louis is looking at him with such anticipation, and God, have his eyes always been so blue? Harry inches closer, slowly. And it’s like Louis doesn’t know what is about to happen because he just stays there, frozen. 

In an instant, Harry’s lips are on Louis’. They sit there for a moment, soft and delicate, shy and timid, before Harry pulls away slowly. He doesn’t look into Louis’ eyes because Louis is staring at the keys of the laptop, gaze avoiding Harry’s. 

Harry wants to cry because he just fucked everything up. “Louis?” he mumbles into the silence. Louis doesn’t answer. Instead, Harry watches as he crawls off the bed and into his wheel chair. Harry looks confused as he watches Louis roll out of the bedroom and into the living room, but he finds himself following. “Louis, wait.” 

Louis opens the front door without saying a word.

But Louis doesn’t have to say anything, because the message is so clear. Harry grabs his sweater and his shoes from beside the couch. His eyes are already tearing, blood shot and tired. “Louis, please, can we talk about this? I’m sorry.” he says, now standing on the porch. 

Louis rolls in front of the door and gives Harry a look full of confusion and fear. “No. We can’t, Harry.” And he doesn’t know why he is saying all of this, but when the words leave his mouth, even Harry refuses to hear it. 

“W-What?” Harry whimpers. 

“We can’t be friends.” Louis repeats, and this doesn’t feel right. Not at all. 

“But...” Harry sobs. “You’re the only friend I’ve ever had. You’re my only friend.” 

Louis shakes his head. “This is why you don’t have friends, Harry.” He wants to stop but he can’t. Something inside of him makes him say these words that he doesn’t mean, and he can’t stop it. “You’re annoying and you’re weird. You always come around and crawl into my life and I can’t take it. Just go away.” Louis finishes before shutting the door. He pretends not to hear the sound of Harry’s cries, and he pretends not to see Harry run away to his house. 

“Fuck.” Louis says to himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

—

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” Harry practically screams into his pillow. “I feel so stupid. He hates me now.” 

Gemma gives her younger brother a sad look. She’s used to teasing him for a majority of the time, but seeing him like this tears her apart. She places a hand on his shoulder and gives it a little squeeze. “It’s okay. You’re alright. He’s just a stupid surfer guy.”

“A stupid surfer guy that I really like.” Harry mumbles lowly. 

Gemma smacks him on the shoulder. “Yeah, but if he’s a dick and if he’s going to be telling you mean things, he doesn’t deserve you!” 

“I should’ve just talked to him about it.” Harry practically ignores Gemma’s tiny lecture, also missing the roll of her eyes. “He was my first real friend. I fucked up.” 

“You think?” Gemma lifts an eyebrow. She brings a hand up to wipe a falling tear from Harry’s cheek. “But whatever happens, you know that I’m always your friend, right?”

Harry looks at her and gives a toothless smile. “Yeah. I do.” 

Gemma smiles at him reassuringly. “Don’t beat yourself up too hard, okay?” 

“Trying not to.” 

Gemma presses a kiss to her brother’s forehead. “Night.” 

Harry shifts on his bed and he finds himself facing the ceiling. He sighs as another tear comes out, hot on his face. He thinks about what Louis might be doing, but then he stops himself because thinking about Louis just hurts. He cries some more when he thinks about their friendship, how he ruined it by wanting more. 

And when he falls asleep that night, it doesn’t surprise him that Louis Tomlinson is in his dreams. 

—

“You’re a dick.” 

“Yeah, and you haven’t been around in my time of need. So that makes you a dick too.” Louis retorts. They’re sitting in Zayn’s room. Louis couldn’t stand to be at home, because being at home reminded him of Harry, oddly enough. So he’s been staying at Zayn’s for the past week. You see, trying to forget about Harry Styles wasn’t an easy thing to do. It seemed like everywhere he looked, he saw Harry. It was kind of inevitable though, with them being next door neighbors and all.

“Sorry that I was trying to have a life.” Zayn says with a chuckle. “You know I love you most.” 

Louis rolls his eyes and tosses a pillow at Zayn’s head. “Oh, hush.” 

“Alright, so he kissed you. And?” Zayn asks with a confused look. 

Louis shifts so that he’s lying next to Zayn. “What do you mean ‘and’? Isn’t it obvious?”

Zayn gives him a clueless look and goes back to scrolling through his Instagram feed. 

Louis smacks the phone out of Zayn‘s hand. “Isn’t being gay like, weird?” he asks. 

A shrug rolls off of Zayn’s shoulders. “I don’t think so. You know my other friend Liam is gay.” he admits with another shrug. “It’s not a huge deal. I think Liam might even like me, you know.”

Louis’ eyes practically bulge out of his head. “So are you saying that you’re gay now too?” 

“I don’t use labels.” he replies nonchalantly. And from what Louis can tell, the topic of gay doesn’t bug Zayn at all. In fact, it’s all taken in a rather nonchalant attitude. 

“Alright, alright. Shag Liam if you must, but I really need help.” Louis whines. 

“Hey. Liam isn’t like that, alright.” Zayn muses aloud, his lips twist into an embarrassed smile. “Is there a chance you might like him too?” 

Louis practically guffaws at the question. Harry is annoying, and pretty much everything else that pushes Louis’ buttons. But then again, Harry has such pretty eyes, and that smile. “I-I don’t know...” Louis finally admits. 

Zayn hums like a contemplative doctor. “Well, do you think about him a lot? Like randomly? And then you find yourself smiling at anything that reminds you of him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then you fucking like him. Quit being such a prick.” Zayn gets up from the bed. “Now, I’m going to go get a drink.” he says before exiting the room. 

 

Quit Being Such A Prick had become Louis’ mantra for the next few weeks. Every time he saw Harry through the front window of the den, Zayn’s voice entered his mind. Zayn was right. Stupid as he was, he was right. A whole month had passed before Louis, a whole month without annoyingly lovely Harry Styles. 

He found that life felt empty without that annoying curly head waking him up at 8 in the morning, and he found that rolling himself down the hill to go to the store wasn’t much fun either. The absence of Harry’s presence was prevalent. A song would come on shuffle just to remind him of how he fucked things up with the other boy. And at times, he would remind himself of his mistake. 

—

But, it wasn’t until a Tuesday afternoon that things took a change for the better. Louis had practically forced Zayn to roll him out to Harry’s porch. 

And now, there he was. Sitting in his wheelchair, on a porch, waiting for a curly head to emerge. He sighs as he rings the doorbell for the fifth time. He knows that Harry is inside. “Come on, Harry. Open up, please.” he groans with no prevail. So he does what he knows best, other than surfing. 

Acting. 

So Louis kicks the door with his cast and shouts in a fake pain. And of course, it isn’t long until he hears those big footsteps thumping down the stairs. The door swings open and the look of utter concern on Harry’s face should make him laugh, but it doesn’t. 

“Hi Harry.” Louis mutters. 

“I thought you- you tricked me again.” Harry’s shoulders drop and he scratches the back of his head. 

“And you were ignoring me.” Louis rolls his eyes and rolls past Harry into the house. 

Harry closes the door behind them and follows Louis into the kitchen. “What are you doing here?” 

Louis scans the house. “You’ve got a really nice place.” he says, ignoring Harry’s question. 

“Lou.” 

“I came to see you.” Louis says, moving his gaze to anywhere besides Harry. “Came to talk.” 

Harry shifts uncomfortably. “Well, what then?” He doesn’t know what to expect from Louis, and it takes all that is within him not to cry. Louis makes him feel so vulnerable. So, it’s undeniable that his knees shake a little bit each time words fall out of Louis’ mouth. 

“I’m really sorry about what I said, Harry. I didn’t mean it—any of it.” Louis concedes. Because it’s true. “I was scared. You scare me.” 

Harry looks at him in concern. “I’m s-sorry?”

“No, no. Stop. Like, it’s not a bad thing.” he takes a deep breath before continuing. “You make me crazy. I can’t even explain it.” 

Harry is speechless, standing there with that same stupid look on his face that Louis adores. A smile comes out on Louis’ face now. 

“I like you too.” he finally admits. “It was hard for me to come to terms with it. I said things I didn’t mean because it all felt so weird, and I didn’t want to like you.” It hit him all at once. It wasn’t a slow or gradual process, no, it came like a bullet train. His feelings for Harry hit him in the most unpredictable way. He had never felt this way about anyone else before. Of course he had his share of past relationships, which were all with females. But it didn’t seem to matter that Harry was a boy. So, something about being with Harry felt so new and extraordinary. 

Harry’s lips quiver slightly. “What?” he asks stupidly. 

Louis practically rolls his eyes. He rolls forward to Harry and grabs him by his t-shirt. “Come down here and let me show you.” he says before pulling Harry down, making their lips meet. And it’s electrifying, like the feeling of the waves crashing on his bare ankles. Electrifying like the first breath of air that comes after being under water for a moment too long. Their lips shift slowly, experimentally. And it's all happening so fast, a completely new feeling as their lips collide. Louis' hands are in Harry's hair, and his muscles are working to keep Harry close to him. 

Their tongues are dancing slowly, painfully slow. 

But then Harry shifts his mouth down to Louis' neck as he presses hot kisses to the scruffy skin. He smiles against Louis, giggling quietly when Louis shivers at the contact. And it all seems to happen so fast, but he finds his hand trailing down Louis' toned stomach. He looks at Louis with wide, cautious eyes. They hold a question, to which Louis nods yes. "Yeah, yeah. S'okay." Louis finds himself mumbling slowly as Harry's hand moves lower. 

Louis takes a shaky breath when Harry's hand goes down all the way, stroking through the small hairs below the band of his boxers. He lets out a soft moan when Harry’s hand comes in contact with his dick, slow and tentative. “God, Harry.” he moans. 

Harry strokes slowly, focussing on the way Louis moves and the way he sounds. Beautiful noises escape the other boy, his body writhing in the wheelchair. A few more strokes and Harry has Louis in the palm of his hand, like melting lava. A sharp noise escapes Louis as he comes completely undone, and Harry pulls his hand out of Louis' pants slowly. 

“God, you’re amazing.” Louis expresses in pleasure, breath heavy as he comes down from his high. 

Harry smiles sheepishly as he presses a kiss to Louis’ cheek. He fixes Louis' pants with a shy smile. “First time doing it, to be honest.” Harry admits, laughing at the shocked look on Louis’ face. 

“But you just-” 

“On someone besides myself...” Harry giggles, eyebrows twitching suggestively. 

Louis pulls Harry onto his lap and the wheelchair only shifts slightly, but they’re in no danger. He places his hands on Harry’s hips to steady him. “I really like you. Think I’m gonna keep you.” he presses kisses to Harry’s bicep. 

“I’ve got no problem with that.” Harry says, shifting to kiss Louis’ lips. “No problem at all.” 

They spend the rest of the evening locked up in Harry’s room watching movies. And for the first time in a long time, Louis knows he has something great. Summer time doesn’t look so bad now, as long as he’s spending it with his favorite boy.


End file.
